Lost
by scarlet79
Summary: Just a fluffy, nearly plot-less story I wrote a while back because I'm addicted to SHEYLA. Full of John/Teyla fun - angst, comfort, and everything in between!


_AN: Okay, so I can't help it. I'm completely addicted to writing Sheyla. Apparently, I've also moved on to dreaming about them, as last night I dreamt up an entire episode of Atlantis that featured them. *sighs*_

_Just a warning...this is rated M for, um...adult situations toward the end. So if you're in the mood for some hot but not extremely graphic fun, then please, enjoy! And please R&R & let me know what you think!_

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><p>Lost<p>

An SGA fic

by scarlet79

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><p>The morning sun was bright, shining through his window and directly onto his face. Groaning, he rolled over onto his stomach to escape the light, tossing his pillow over his head for good measure. He was simultaneously glad and upset that he'd been awakened from his dream; the dream itself had been bittersweet, reminding him about each of the women in his life and how they had either left, or been taken away from him. Most of those had been his fault – maybe not directly in some cases, but his fault nonetheless. Recalling the events of his dream made him suddenly feel like punching something, and he wearily pummeled the mattress underneath him a few times, the most unmanly tears burning the corners of his eyes. The women's faces continued to haunt him behind his eyelids, drifting one by one before his memory, and a deep hollow settled into his chest, as if his very heart had been torn out of it.<p>

A soft knock on his door then reached his ears, and at first, he ignored it. Company was not something he wanted right now. But soon, whoever was there became insistent, and the knocking became louder. Stifling the urge to shout at them to go away, he got up and shuffled to the door, the floor cold under his bare feet. He disengaged the lock with a wave of his hand, and the door slid open to reveal Teyla Emmagen standing there, a tray of food in her hands.

"We were concerned when you did not join us for breakfast," she offered simply, lifting the tray a little higher for emphasis. When he did not return her genuine smile, her lips turned down, and she asked, "John, are you all right?"

Sheppard shrugged noncommittally, but allowed her to follow him into his room. She set the tray on his bedside table and then simply stood nearby as he dumped himself back onto his bed, flopping one arm onto his stomach and the other above his head. He stared emptily at the ceiling, the flecks in his hazel eyes catching the sunlight like the embers of a fire. In all the years she had known him, she had never seen him so quiet, and it disturbed her.

Taking a step forward, she quietly said, "If you would rather be alone…"

"No!" he suddenly replied, nearly leaping back up off the bed. "No, I'm okay…I just…I had this dream…"

When she realized that he didn't intend on finishing his thought, she moved closer and settled lightly on the bed beside him. Her hands were clasped in her lap, and he noticed then that she'd finally let Jennifer paint her nails. The dark burgundy polish was an unusual choice for Teyla, who liked light, natural colors, but it fit well with her dark skin. She caught him looking at her hands and smiled gently, but decided not to comment on them just now. She had come here for John, not to talk about herself.

"Was it a bad dream?" She asked softly, and he once more laid down, feeling completely at ease with her.

"Not really," he answered. "More like a...a sad dream."

"Oh," was her simple reply, willing to either let the subject drop, or allow him to explain as much as he wanted.

Silence hung between them for a full minute, and then he sighed and rubbed at his dark hair. "Was just thinkin' about some people. My mom. Elizabeth. Nancy. You."

"Me?" Teyla was genuinely puzzled. Cocking an eyebrow in her usual way, she asked, "What about me?"

Sheppard propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her, his fingers idly picking at his sheets. "Just…about how I lost you."

"But I am right here. You did not lose me…"

He shook his head. "Not what I meant, although technically I _did_ lose you when Michael took you. I was talking about when I lost you to Kanaan."

Teyla's eyes widened as she realized what he had meant, but she wisely kept silent.

"I've never been good at relationships. I don't listen well to authority, I have a hard time making real friends, and women…well," he blew out a sigh, "my marriage to Nancy should explain that one pretty well."

"But are not Ronon, Rodney and myself your 'real' friends?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah. Bad choice of words, I guess. Anyway, from the first time we met, I've felt…I liked you, a lot. But then you joined my team, and there's this thing about professionalism and stuff between team members, and even though I wanted to be closer to you, it never seemed to be the right time.

"And then, when you told me about TJ –" she smiled at his nickname for Torren "– about Kanaan – I realized that it was too late. I lost your heart to another guy."

The sadness in his eyes was almost too much for her to bear; she felt her heart squeezing tightly at the sight, threatening to break, and she tried to ease it by resting her hand on his shoulder.

"John," she managed barely above a whisper. "I did not know…"

"I know you didn't, and that's why it kills me. Maybe if I'd just said or done something earlier…but I don't want you to think I'm not happy for you, 'cuz I am, really."

Her eyes widened once more. _Had he really not heard_? She wondered to herself. If she had to guess by his words alone, she would say that he had not. Lightly squeezing his shoulder, she said, "You do not know?"

His eyes flicked to her face, confused. "Know what?"

Teyla heaved in a deep breath, willing away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks, and gazed back down at him. "Kanaan is gone."

"Gone?" he asked, suddenly sitting up, genuine alarm now evident on his face. "What do you mean?"

"He became ill very suddenly and died, a few days ago. In fact, I was about to leave for the settlement once I had checked on you."

Sheppard noted the shine in her eyes, the slight downturn at the corners of her mouth, and though he was not the best at comforting others – especially women – he wrapped his arms gently around her, pulling her against his chest. "I'm sorry, Teyla. If I had known, I wouldn't have…I would've offered to go with you."

Smiling despite the tears that had finally escaped and now dampened the front of his t-shirt, she said, "I know. You have been so busy lately, I never got a chance to tell you. I thought Ronon or Rodney would have done so, but it appears they did not."

"No, they didn't," he affirmed, "but I wish they had." He let her lean against him for a while, knowing that it was silent comfort she needed rather than kind words. Then, he cautiously asked, "Do you want me to go with you?"

After a moment, she sat up and nodded. "I would appreciate that. Thank you."

"What about Torren?"

"Doctor Keller has graciously offered to care for him. He is too young to understand the ceremony, and I would not be able to properly perform my duty as leader if he were with me."

Sheppard nodded. "Okay. Just let me grab some things, and I'll meet you in the Gate Room."

Wiping at her reddened eyes, she smiled softly. "Very well. Thank you, John."

"You're welcome," he murmured, already making his way over to his dresser for some clean clothes. He heard her get up from the bed and start for the door, and he called her name to stop her. She did, and he turned around to look at her, trying to figure out the best way to say what he was thinking without sounding like an idiot. Finally, he simply said, "Sorry," again.

Not trusting her voice, Teyla gave him a single nod and then left.

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><p>Sheppard stood in the Athosian settlement, watching as Teyla's people prepared Kanaan's funeral pyre. A platform had already been constructed, and large logs had been leaned up against it, their rough-hewn edges pointing up toward the sky. The women of the village silently arranged huge palm-like fronds over the platform, until every inch of the flat surface had been covered. Over this, they scattered the most fragrant flowers and herbs, their perfumes already drifting across the breeze.<p>

Though his body remained still, Sheppard's eyes searched the faces around him until he spotted Teyla standing with Halling, talking quietly among themselves. As he watched, she and her kinsman touched foreheads, and she leaned down and allowed Halling's son Jinto to do the same. When she stood up again, she noticed Sheppard watching her, a protective glower on his face, and she resisted the urge to smile at his expression.

"The final preparations are nearly completed," she told him when she had reached his side. "I see you have been overseeing the building of the pyre."

He nodded halfheartedly, deftly stepping aside just as two young children ran between him and Teyla, making enough room so they wouldn't collide with either his or Teyla's legs. "I get that the flowers and herbs are there to make the smell more bearable, but what about the leaves?"

Turning her gaze to the pyre, she explained, "The leaves are a symbol of the natural cycle of life. Just as humans grow and reproduce, and finally die, so do plants. The large palms we place on the platform are built up thickly, like moss grows on the ground, to give the person's soul a comfortable place to rest before it continues the journey to the Ancestors."

"Hmm," John replied in understanding. When he glanced at her, he noticed that her eyes were still red, though there were no tears in them now. Touching his hand lightly to her back, he asked, "You gonna be okay?"

She offered back a rueful smile and pressed herself against his hand, grateful for his touch just then. "I think so. The ceremony itself is not very long, but the arrangements for it seem to drag on. Once it is all over, I will be fine."

"Good." He looked around, giving a nod to Halling as he passed by. "Is there anything you need me to do? Once it starts, I mean."

Touched by his genuine offer, Teyla nodded. "I would be honored if you would hold a torch to the pyre, as I will do. Kanaan always spoke very highly of you, and since you are one of my closest friends - and my child's namesake - the gesture would not be lost on anyone here."

Though he felt a twinge of guilt at the mention of Kanaan's trust in him, he forced his expression to remain neutral. The fact was, John had not trusted the other man very much at all, since the Wraith they'd named Michael had kidnapped Teyla's people and began experimenting on them. Kanaan had been one of those experiments, and had nearly let Michael take Torren from Teyla. If John's team hadn't showed up when they had...John shuddered to think of what could have happened.

But now was not the time to dwell on that, he realized. Kanaan was gone, and no amount of dredging up the past was going to help.

His hand now gently rubbing the cool skin of her right arm, he replied, "I'd be honored, as well."

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><p>At dusk, the ceremony finally began. Teyla stood at the head of the funeral pyre, with Sheppard on her right side and Halling on her left. The blazing torches in their hands flickered in the warm breeze, and as the wind calmed and the flames brightened again, Sheppard could see tears shining in Teyla's brown eyes. The guilt he had felt earlier now raged back, making his chest tight. He really was sad that the man had died, no matter what he had done before, and he was very sorry that Teyla had lost her son's father. But more than anything, he worried for Torren. He knew Teyla would raise her son well enough on her own but – and maybe this was his personal opinion sneaking in – a boy needed a father.<p>

Teyla stepped forward then, her eyes fixed on the pyre before her, and when she spoke, her voice was clear and calm.

"This night, another of our proud people begins the journey to the Ancestors. Kanaan, son of Calum, father of Torren John Emmagen, was a brave man, and a very good friend. He will be greatly missed."

There was a brief pause, the only sounds a few sniffles and a woman – Sheppard guessed it was a close relative of Kanaan's – sobbing, and then Teyla offered a prayer in her Athosian tongue, followed by the same song she had sung for Charin's funeral.

When the last echo of her strong soprano faded away into the coming night, she glanced at Sheppard, and he knew that was the signal she had told him to watch for. Solemnly, he stepped forward and touched his torch to the logs; the flame caught quickly, spreading upward in a matter of moments to lick at the palm fronds beneath Kanaan's body. He stepped back and Halling took his turn, leaving Teyla for last. She used her torch to intentionally light the palms, to speed the fire along.

This time when she stepped back, Sheppard could see her tears sliding silently down her cheeks, shining in the firelight like trails of diamond dust. And yet, the set of her jaw remained firm, her expression neutral. Sheppard admired that about her – though her heart was likely breaking inside, she stayed strong outwardly, showing any who may have doubted that she was indeed a true leader.

As her trusted helper, Sheppard was required to stay beside her until the last ember burned away, but truthfully, he did so willingly. The three of them stood side by side the entire time, silent as the other Athosians slowly trickled away until they alone were left.

"You did a wonderful job, Teyla," Halling said a while later, when they'd tired of standing and sat cross-legged on the grass. The fire had burned itself out long before, but they had been in no hurry to leave.

She bowed her head graciously. "Thank you. You did well, also."

He bowed in return. "Thank you."

They remained as they were for another long moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Then, Halling looked up at the moon and noticed by its height in the sky what time it was.

"I would love to stay longer, but I am certain Jinto is still up waiting for me."

Teyla smiled sadly, her heart aching as she remembered her own son, all the way across the sea in Atlantis. "Go on home, Halling. And tell Jinto good night for me."

He nodded and stood up. "I will." He held out his hand to Sheppard. "It was an honor having you here, Sheppard."

Sheppard took his hand and shook it firmly. "Honor was mine. Good night."

Just before he turned away, Halling shot him a meaningful look, his eyes darting from Sheppard to Teyla and back again.

As he walked away in the direction of the village. Teyla quietly said, "I also wanted to thank you for being here today, John. Your presence was a great source of comfort for me. I am very grateful that you came."

Shifting closer to her, he nodded. "You're more than welcome, Teyla. You know that any time you need me, all you have to do is ask."

He could see her lower lip tremble in the moonlight, and her voice was shaky as she said, "I know."

"You know what else you should know?" He asked then, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Unable to trust her voice, she merely shook her head, and he murmured, "You don't have to act strong in front of me."

At first, she only gazed up at him, her eyes trying to blink back more tears in spite of what he had just said. Then, they spilled over her lids and down the sides of her nose, and a heart-wrenching sob escaped her lips. As more sobs were torn from her throat, she curled in to him, her face buried against his collarbone. Her hands clutched at his shirt, as if she were trying to burrow deeper against him but could go no further. He pressed her closer, his arms folded across her back, his eyes closed as he let her release her pain, her fears, her sorrow. They stayed that way for quite some time, but he didn't mind, not even when his left leg began to go numb. She needed him, and he'd be damned if he let something like a little discomfort get in the way. Instead he bent his face down and kissed the top of her head, his hands gently rubbing up and down her back.

"I know," he murmured in her ear, "I'm so sorry. I know."

Finally, her sobbing ceased, replaced instead by hiccuped sniffles. Her hands still gripped his shirt, only not as tightly as before.

"John?" She said after another long silence, her voice muffled against his neck.

He tipped his head a little to the side, pressing his cheek against her hair.

"Yeah?"

"I feel a little...silly."

He shook his head then, confusing her.

"No," he said firmly, but gently. "Don't."

She pulled back just enough to see his eyes. "I – "

"You have nothing to feel 'silly' about. Leader or not, you deserve to mourn your loved ones."

She frowned, swiping the knuckle of her pointer finger under her damp eyelids. "But – " she tried again, but he shook his head again.

"Listen, it's obvious you needed a shoulder to cry on. And that's okay." He put his hands on her shoulders and stared down into her eyes. "You don't have to be strong all the time. Sometimes, we all need someone to be strong for us. It's okay."

At first she seemed about to argue some more, but then her mouth closed and she flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. He caught her in his embrace, chuckling deep in his throat as she shyly kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, John," she said against his ear.

"For what?"

"For being you. For being my friend. For everything."

If he had been anyone else but John Sheppard, that might have made him tear up. As it was, he only squeezed her tighter and replied, "Any time."

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><p>It was Saturday night, which for Sheppard meant Babysitting Duty. That was just fine with him – Teyla got to have fun playing cards with the "girls": Keller, Sam Carter, and Amelia Banks – and he got to spend time with his favorite little guy. Of course, it was a bonus that it was nighttime, which meant that Torren would be sleeping for the better part of his watch, which in turn meant that Sheppard could catch up on paperwork.<p>

Okay, so the aforementioned paperwork was really Sudoku puzzles and car mags, but no one else knew that except Teyla herself, and she was rarely one to gossip.

Sheppard's earpiece crackled. "Sheppard?"

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Rodney?"

"Is Torren sleeping?"

"Yes, Rodney."

"Oh, good. Can I come down and talk to you?"

"Sure."

"Good, 'cause I'm already here." The door swished open, and Rodney McKay stepped inside. "I didn't want to wake him by 'ringing the doorbell'."

Sheppard lifted his head in a half-nod. "Good call." He tossed his car magazine aside – the same one he'd been trying to read for three months, he noted irritably – and leaned back against the couch cushions. "So, what's up?"

Rodney took a seat on the end of Sheppard's perpetually-messy bed. "Hmm?" He asked, already forgetting the reason he'd come to his friend's room. It only took him a moment to remember. "Oh. Right. Um, I wondered if you knew what was up with Teyla earlier? She seemed even quieter than usual."

Sheppard shrugged. "It's only been two months since Kanaan died. Maybe she was thinking about him. You know...missing him."

Rodney made a face. "I'm not so sure it's that, but I can see how it could be. It's just..." he leaned forward then, as if to impart a secret, "I was trying to fix her door this morning, and she snapped at me! I nearly dropped the crystals I was holding, I was so surprised."

Though Rodney's anecdote had raised a warning flag in Sheppard's mind, outwardly he only grinned. "Well, we all knew it was bound to happen, Rodney. Eventually, everyone you meet gets sick of ya'."

Rodney gave him a sardonic grin. "Oh, funny. You are so clever, you know that?" He glanced down at the sleeping baby, seeing so much of Teyla in his tiny face. "I'm serious. She really freaked me out."

"Okay, Rodney, okay. I'll talk to her."

Now Rodney stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted another head. "Are you nuts? You can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because then she'll know I was talking to you about her."

"But you were. You are, I mean."

Rodney shook his head vehemently. "Please don't. She'll kill me!"

Sheppard threw up his hands in helplessness. "Well then, what the hell do you want me to do, Rodney?"

This stopped Rodney in his tracks, so to speak. He thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just needed to vent about it. Though I am worried for her."

"Well then, maybe _you_ should talk to her."

"Heh. Yeah, that'll happen like, never. Thanks, though."

Sheppard sighed and glanced at Torren, sleeping on his stomach in his playpen. He was currently only half-covered by the blanket Sheppard had bought for him, having been restless enough earlier in the night to kick it partway off. Sheppard grinned at that; he did much the same thing with the covers of his own bed.

"She talks about you, you know."

John's head snapped up, and he regarded Rodney with a curious gaze. "What? Who?"

The smirk on McKay's face inched a little closer to that of an insane person. "Teyla. She's always going on about how you did this thing for her, or that little toy you bought for Torren on some backwater planet. I think she likes you."

Sheppard frowned. "Be serious, Rodney. She has a –" he cleared his throat and amended, "I mean, she was involved with Kanaan for a long time. She's probably just grateful to have a good friend like me – something you could take lessons from her on, I might add."

Rodney ignored the jab. "I _am_ serious, John. I've seen the way you two look at each other. It's like being stuck in the worst romantic comedy-slash-horror movie ever. Between you two and the Wraith, I'd almost be willing to take the Wraith."

"Not my fault that you're jealous of my record with women, McKay."

McKay snorted. "Oh, and what's that? Divorced once, threatened with death twice..."

"Okay, let's change the subject," Sheppard said then, the friendly banter coming dangerously close to an argument.

"Fine."

They both sat there, the growing silence becoming uncomfortable, and then Sheppard stood up and walked over to his mini-fridge. He opened it up and rummaged around inside, the sound of clinking bottles reaching Rodney's ears. Finally, he produced two bottles of beer, and handed one to the physicist.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

Sheppard cocked an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, did we suddenly turn into teenagers while I wasn't looking?"

"No, I mean..." he sighed as Sheppard twisted the cap off his beer and took a long swig. "Are you sure it's okay to drink on duty?"

"I don't think one beer's gonna do much, Rodney. Now, calm down and drink up."

Shrugging in surrender, McKay opened his as well and took a sip. He grimaced at the bitterness, then took a longer swallow. The bubbles tickled his throat, but he enjoyed the way the cold liquid poured down to his stomach, turning warm once it was there.

With a sigh, Sheppard folded his lanky frame on the couch, letting his head rest against the back, his beer cold in his hand. Though it was missing a pizza and a good action flick, he decided that this was fairly close to a perfect Saturday night. He let his mind wander idly, and soon it came to rest again on Teyla. He wondered if she was having fun, if she felt just at ease with her girlfriends as she usually did.

Rodney was right, though; she had been different lately. He'd seen it himself just a few days ago, when he had asked her if she wanted to sit out their last mission. She had gotten visibly upset almost immediately, to the point that he quickly decided to apologize and ask her to pretend he had never said anything, simply to prevent her from body-slamming him to the floor and smashing his face in. He knew – or at least, could make an educated guess – what was bothering her, but he had no idea that it would affect her so deeply.

And so, that was why he had offered to take Torren. She needed some down-time, he had said, a few hours to relax and just be a woman. At first, she had balked, arguing that she had too much time on her hands, but he kept at it until she relented. She had missed "hanging out" with the girls, she finally agreed.

"Earth to John Sheppard. Hello?"

Sheppard's eyes flew open, and he jerked his head up. "Huh?"

Rodney grinned. "Mornin' sunshine. You almost spilled your beer."

Sheppard glanced down at his hand, which had indeed turned downward a few degrees, and quickly corrected it before anything could pour out of the bottle. He leaned forward and set the beer on the coffee table, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck toward his face.

"Uh, thanks, Rodney," he muttered. "Guess I started to nod off, there."

McKay's eyes danced, but though he wanted badly to rib his best friend, he only said, "It's okay. It _is_ pretty late."

As if to confirm this, Sheppard glanced down at his watch. 12:30 AM, Atlantis time. Right now, he'd be taking his evening run, the one he usually did without Ronon. It was the time he used to just think, to sort stuff out in his mind and figure out solutions to the problems of the day. In the catwalks above the city, he could let his guard down and be himself, often finding himself talking aloud to Atlantis herself. He felt somehow safer up there, alone.

"Yes, it is," he finally said, stifling a yawn. "But Teyla needs this."

Rodney finished off his beer and set the empty bottle on the floor. "I know."

Just then, the door hissed open, and Teyla walked in, a smile lighting her features. Both men jumped to their feet, and her grin widened further.

"Hello, John. Rodney."

"Hey," Sheppard replied, "back so soon? I thought you'd be gone til at least 3."

She shook her head. "I was feeling too tired to stay, and Jennifer was called away just before I left, anyway."

"Is everything okay?" Rodney asked, and the others exchanged a knowing look. It was no secret that the physicist was in love with the young female CMO, and had been for quite some time.

"Yes, Rodney," Teyla assured him. "She just needed to set someone's broken arm."

"But you had fun while you were there, right?"

"Yes," she said again. "Thank you for watching Torren, John." Her lips curved in a smile as she inadvertently said Torren's full name. Torren John. She often asked herself why she did not name him after Kanaan, or at least after his kin; after all, Torren was Kanaan's son, not John's. But for some reason, John's name had fit, and she had felt that he deserved some acknowledgment for helping her son to survive. If he (and Rodney and Ronon) had not come to rescue her, she was certain that Michael would have killed her and eventually, her son as well.

"It's no problem," he replied, a sincere grin on his face. "He slept pretty much the whole time, anyway."

She seemed surprised by this. "Really? I still cannot get him to sleep through the night. How did you do it?"

Sheppard couldn't resist cracking a joke. "Cough syrup. One little teaspoon, they're out like a light."When she glared at him, he said, "Oh, no, I'm just kidding. I would never...Teyla, it was just a joke."

From somewhere beside him, Rodney snorted a laugh. "Good going, Sheppard. How many times I gotta tell you? Don't poke the Momma Bear."

Sheppard turned to glare at his friend. "Not. Helping."

Rodney shrugged. "So. Leaving." Then, he looked to Teyla. "G'night, Teyla. Try not to kill him; I need his help in the morning."

She smiled genuinely at him. "I will attempt to control myself. Good night, Rodney."

When he had gone, the door closing after him, Teyla folded her arms over her chest. "You never answered my question."

Sheppard cocked his head. "Which was?"

"How did you get Torren to sleep so soundly?"

"Oh, right." He walked over to the playpen where Torren still slept and noticed that the blanket was now completely kicked off of his little body. Smiling, he picked up the blanket and shook it out, then laid it back over the baby. "Simple. I just laid him down and let him cry for a little while, and he tired himself out."

She stepped over beside him, also staring down at her beloved son, a troubled look in her eyes. Anticipating a scolding from her, he bit his lower lip and added, "He wasn't crying very long. Five minutes or so, and if he hadn't stopped by then, then I would've picked him up and tried something else."

"That is not why I am upset, John. You have a natural instinct when it comes to children. Torren is always very glad to see you."

"Well then, what is it?"

Teyla looked to the ceiling, breathing in a sigh. "I realized tonight, as I was playing poker with Jennifer and Sam, that I have been...different...lately."

He shrugged. "It's understandable. You lost your...someone you loved. That takes a toll on anyone."

She could hear the sadness in his voice as he spoke, and turned herself so that she was facing him. He did likewise, and she just caught the pain in his eyes before his usual mask of joviality slipped over it.

"John," she said softly, "I do not think you understand just what kind of relationship I had with Kanaan."

He smiled, but it came out lopsided. "Of course I do. You had a baby with him, Teyla. That's kind of hard to misinterpret."

"I did, yes," she nodded. "But we were not intending for it to happen. Torren was...well, he was unexpected."

"But not unwanted," Sheppard replied, once more breaking eyesight with her to gaze down at the baby. He really had not wanted to go over this with her again; it hurt too much to hear her speak of her love for Kanaan, to know that she had begun a good life with someone, while he had failed at his own marriage and then every relationship from then on.

"No. While I loved Kanaan for giving me companionship and ultimately, for Torren, I did not love him the same way he did me. He wanted to give me his whole heart, but I could not do the same."

She put her hand to his face, gently asking him to look at her. He did so, and she smiled at him. "I could not, because I had already given it to you."

Confused, he furrowed his brow at her. "But...wait, Teyla. Are you saying...?"

"The first night I met you, I felt such a close bond with you. And when I joined the team, you were always there when I needed you. I drew my strength from you, when I would have fallen into soul-rending despair at the losses we suffered at the hands of the Wraith. No matter what we went through, you were always there, your presence so strong, so steady, all I needed to do was reach out, and you would find me.

"And, even though you thought that I had lost my deepest love when Kanaan died, you were still there for me, attending at his funeral and then afterward allowing me to grieve him."

"I told you, I'll always be here for you."

"I know. As I will likewise be here for you."

"I know."

She fell silent then, both of them watching her son sleep peacefully. His tiny, pink lips moved for a moment as if he were sucking on a bottle, then stopped.

"Always hungry," Teyla chuckled. She took Sheppard's hand in both of hers, her skin warm and soft. "You and he get along very well. He very much enjoys those Jumper rides you have been taking him on."

"I enjoy taking him," he said with a grin. "He's a great kid."

"I think you would make a wonderful father. You seem so calm and at ease around children, especially Torren."

At this, Sheppard shook his head. "It's one thing to help out with someone else's kid, and another one to have your own. I'd be a horrible dad."

"Why do you say that, John?"

"Because my father was bad at it. I'm pretty sure I'll end up making the same mistakes he did."

She had heard about his father's funeral from Ronon, who also filled her in on what kind of man Patrick Sheppard had been while he was alive. Cold, distant, strict – almost exactly the opposite of what John was, even on his worst day.

She shook her head.

"No," she said aloud. "You are nothing like your father. Sure, you may make mistakes – every parent does – but I know that you would be much loved by any children you may have in the future. And when Torren grows up, he will speak very highly of you, as well."

"I'm a little old to be thinking about having kids, Teyla. Besides, I like being the bachelor uncle. I get to spoil 'em and then hand 'em back. Much more fun that way."

"But – " she began, but he cut her off with a glare.

"Teyla!" he cried in a hushed tone, so he would not wake the baby. "Please, don't argue with me."

Her eyes took on a hard look as well. "I will argue if I wish to. You need to understand that you are not your father."

His voice raised a decibel or two. "And you need to understand that I don't want to talk about this any more!"

"Lower your voice, please," she warned him, her eyes darting to Torren.

Feeling suddenly childish, he knitted his eyebrows together and cried, "It's my room, and I can yell if I want to!"

Icily, she repeated her earlier command. "Lower. Your. Voice. Right now."

He opened his mouth, about to shout again. She had anticipated this, however; standing up on her toes, she pressed her mouth against his, forcing him to be quiet. He was too startled to move at first, but when he had recovered he pressed back harder, kissing her even as he felt like throttling her. His hands twined into her hair, holding her against him as his tongue thrust possessively into her mouth, claiming every inch of it as his own. Teyla pushed against him, making him take a sudden step backward, then another, until his calves touched the end of his bed. She put her hands on his chest and gave a final shove, and he fell back, bringing her along with him.

His anger now dissolved into desire, he broke their kiss just long enough to sit up and pull his t-shirt over his head, dropping it in a heap on the floor. Now above her, he took the opportunity to take control and pressed his mouth down on hers, his weight trapping her underneath him.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" He asked in between kissing her mouth, her neck, the soft spot under her ear.

Sighing at his fevered attentions, she ran her hands through his hair and nodded. "I know. As you do to me."

"Our conversation's not over," he said against her throat.

"I thought not. You are one who always must have the last word."

Growling both in frustration and lust, he grabbed her hair and tugged her head back to look at him. His eyes were all dark pupils, his nostrils flaring wide as he tried to catch his breath. "You're just as stubborn as I am, Teyla, and you know it."

Her anger still not completely cooled, she hooked an eyebrow at him and snapped, "Only because you insist on always being right."

"Which I am."

At this, she pushed against him and sat up. In another quick motion, she had flipped him onto his back and was now straddling his waist, her knees digging into his ribs. Her eyes positively smoldered as she said, "In your wildest dreams, perhaps. Sometimes your..."

"Confidence?" He supplied, but she shook her head.

"Ego," she corrected, her lips twisting in a sneer. "Sometimes, your ego is worse than Rodney's."

"And yet," he huffed, putting his hands on either side of her waist, "you're here with me, right now. What does that say for you, exactly?"

Slowly she leaned down and caught his lips between her teeth, biting down only hard enough to make him gasp. "That I love nothing more than being the one to push you down a few notches."

Sheppard's gaze sparked at that, and he pulled her head down so he could crush his lips against hers. She pretended to put up a fight at first, but when his hand slipped up the back of her shirt, his fingers brushing her shoulders, she gave up the pretense and melted against him. Her own hand stole across his chest, pushing his dog tags aside so her nails could drag lightly through the dark, curly hairs there. Breathing so hard he was almost panting, he tugged at the laces of her shirt until it fell open, then pulled it from her shoulders and dropped it on the floor. Her hands immediately went to the button of his pants, and made quick work of undoing both button and zipper. Still pressing hot kisses to his mouth, she pushed his pants down past his hips, using her knee to help drag them further toward his feet. Likewise, Sheppard untied the belt on Teyla's pants and started to yank them down. He stopped abruptly when he heard a ripping sound, and gave her a sheepish shrug in apology. She, however, simply stared into his eyes and then reached down to tear them the rest of the way.

That small act sent fire running through his veins, and he gave a low, almost animal growl as he watched her dump the last of their clothes over the edge of the bed. Gripping her arms so hard she nearly cried out, he pulled her down under him and ravaged her mouth with more kisses. The hours-old stubble on his face scratched against the smooth skin of her face, but she felt nothing except her desire for him. In fact, she was nearly shuddering with it, making Sheppard flick an evil smile at her before trailing his lips down her flat stomach. His hands slipped down the outsides of her tanned legs as he moved, and just that contact alone nearly made her cry out with pleasure. He stayed between her thighs just long enough to tease her into gasping for breath, and then came back up until his face was level with hers, his eyes so dark they looked black.

Teyla wrapped her legs around his back, crossing her ankles over his spine so he couldn't escape, and lifted her hips to grind them against his. He wasted no time in giving her what she begged for; he slid easily into her, both of them gasping at the contact. He started to move in a slow rhythm, but she shook her head and dug her heels harder into his back, urging him to go faster.

_So, this is what they call angry sex,_ he thought as he watched her eyes slide closed and her lower lip caught between her teeth. A sudden feeling of tenderness passed over him, and he murmured, "Teyla."

Her eyes flew open at her name, and she frowned at him but never slowed her pace. "Don't speak. Just..."

Knowing what she wanted, he nodded and pressed against her even harder, and she uttered a long, low moan. Deciding that he liked that noise, he repeated the motion over and over again, and faster as well. The moan soon became higher in pitch, and louder, until it was a near-constant wail. Then, all of a sudden, he felt her tense up, and she threw her head back and cried out as waves of pleasure rolled over her entire body. He kept up the pace for a few minutes longer, until he felt as if he would explode. Gripping her waist tight with both hands, he rode out his own release, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a quick shout before falling forward, his elbows on either side of her head the only things keeping him from landing right on her chest.

When he could breathe easily once more, he bent his head down and said into her ear, "I told you...you drive me crazy."

She smiled in response. "I suppose so." Then, her grin faded, and she asked, "What does this mean, for us, John?"

He gazed down at her, his eyes dream-like with satisfaction. "What do you want it to mean?"

"Was this just a moment of weakness? A release of our anger and various frustrations?"

Trying to gauge her own feelings through her eyes, he asked, "Is that what it felt like to you?"

She shook her head. "No," she whispered. "Not at all."

Relieved, he blew out a sigh and rolled off of her. Laying beside her and wrapping his arm around her stomach, he said, "Good. Me, either."

She rolled onto her side to face him, shivering happily when his arm slid further around her until his hand pressed against the small of her back. Sheppard kissed the tip of her nose, and they shared a smile as he continued. "So, you, of all people, know how much I hate talking about feelings. But I need to say something because if I don't I'm afraid I'll lose you again. You know, to someone else who won't be afraid to say it."

Her heart already pounding, she could only nod.

"Um, I..." he glanced up at the ceiling, as if gathering his strength from it. Then, peering directly into her brown eyes, he said, "I love you. In fact, from the moment I met you, I was already there. You were so strong and yet so afraid – of us, of the Wraith – and so completely beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off of you, and when you invited me to check out the ruins with you, my heart was beating so fast I could barely say anything. I knew at that very minute, that no matter what happened, if we became allies or not, that I would do anything to protect you – and your people, too, if for no other reason than to see you smile." She could not keep the smile he mentioned from her lips at this, and he chuckled. "That's the one."

Her hand caressed his face, and he pressed his jaw against it, his eyes sliding closed. They fluttered open again, however, when she called his name softly.

"I love you, as well." He opened his mouth to speak, but she held her pointer finger against his lips and shushed him. "You are a good man – one that any woman should be proud to call hers. And I am glad to be here with you, for as long as you will have me." She waggled her eyebrows playfully. "Which, I would hope, would be forever."

He grinned and pulled her against him, kissing the top of her head. "I've got no argument with that. None at all."

* * *

><p>THE END<p> 


End file.
